


Things That Go Hump in the Night

by haloeverlasting, indiaalphawhiskey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Camping, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, M/M, Mishaps and Shenanigans, Sixty-Nining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloeverlasting/pseuds/haloeverlasting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiaalphawhiskey/pseuds/indiaalphawhiskey
Summary: “I thought you said I make everything fun,” Harry replies with a curt shrug. “I thought you liked trying new things with me.”Harry is clearly upset with him, and camping or no, Louis was hoping for a good weekend all the same.“You do make everything fun, but I’m warning you right now. This isn’t something new we’re trying. This is a well established hatred and I’m fucking cursed, so this isn’t going to be fun.” Louis hates how petulant he sounds, but it’s true. Camping never has and never will go well for him. And sure, maybe part of that is his attitude, but the attitude has only come from a consistent cause and effect in his life.Louis goes camping. Something horrible happens. Louis is miserable.It’s science.Or, the one where Louis is right.





	Things That Go Hump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> The prompt assigned for this submission was the word Bat. :)   
> Many thanks to my betas and anyone who had an encouraging word for me during this writing process.  
> Most thanks to my lovely coauthor to be revealed later. Thank you for filling in where I was simply unable. <3

The world is a cruel, awful place. Harry is driving, and his cell phone has officially lost signal. They’re surrounded by big green trees, the windows are rolled down, and Harry has some of their favorite music playing just loud enough to be heard over the wind. 

The world isn’t fair because this would all be  _ perfect _ if they were heading home. Closer to civilization instead of further away. 

“Stop pouting,” Harry reprimands lightly, squeezing at Louis’ thigh. “This is going to be great.” 

It absolutely will  _ not _ . Louis sticks his bottom lip out a little further, and crosses his arms a little tighter. 

He hates camping. He always has, for as long as he can remember—but it’s not for lack of trying. 

The first time his parents dragged him to the middle of nowhere, he received his first  _ ten _ bee stings in one go. His mother was so worried he’d have some sort of reaction she’d taken him home almost immediately. The second time, he’d nearly drowned in a lake when he stepped from shallow to deep waters all too suddenly. 

Then his mother had the  _ audacity _ to send him to a week long summer camp where he’d had his heart broken by a boy from the red cabin who said he looked funny,  _ and _ fell flat on his face at a football game. 

Louis absolutely detests camping. He can’t believe the loveliest person he knows would force him to try it again. 

“You can’t let your childhood traumas keep you from experiencing new things, Lou.” Harry says, turning the radio down slightly.

“I don’t force you to go see the ostriches at the zoo, Harry,” Louis argues, pointedly rolling his eyes. 

“That’s _different_ , and you know it.” Harry replies quickly. It’s clearly an argument they’ve had before. “I was _attacked_. All that crap that happened to you was purely coincidental, Lou. Normal embarrassing kid stuff!” 

“It’s not like another ostrich would come for you, though! Mine is an actual curse!” Louis raises his voice slightly. 

Harry visibly shudders, “God, can we just. Talk about something else, please?” 

“Can we talk about how expensive this stupid bag was?” Louis says, frustrated. “And how you bought  _ two _ of them?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, snarling slightly. “Lou, just shut up, okay? If I had known you were going to be this miserable about it I would’ve just come by myself.” 

Louis bites the inside of his cheek and keeps his gaze straight ahead. Maybe he’s gone a little too far. When he glances over at Harry, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white, and a wild look in his eyes, he knows he’s crossed a line. 

Louis sighs and reaches for one of Harry’s hands. Harry ignores it, pursing and licking his lips. 

“Haz,” Louis says softly. “I’m sorry. But camping sucks.” 

“I thought you said I make everything fun,” Harry replies with a curt shrug. “I thought you liked trying new things with me.” 

Harry is clearly upset with him, and camping or no, Louis was hoping for a good weekend all the same. 

“You  _ do  _ make everything fun, but I’m warning you right now. This isn’t something new we’re trying. This is a well established hatred and I’m fucking  _ cursed _ , so this isn’t going to be fun.” Louis hates how petulant he sounds, but it’s true. Camping never has and never will go well for him. And sure, maybe part of that is his attitude, but the attitude has only come from a consistent cause and effect in his life. 

Louis goes camping. Something horrible happens. Louis is miserable. 

It’s science. 

Harry huffs a little and bites hard on his bottom lip before he says, “You know, your mum  _ told _ me that story about the bees.” 

Louis shrugs, “So?” 

“So, that wasn’t some freak accident, Lou.” Harry chuckles, “You poked the hive. Which, honestly, I didn’t need your mum to tell me that. I had already guessed. But honestly, this weekend is going to be whatever you make of it. Don’t poke any beehives and I promise you won’t get stung.”   

Louis tries to stay frustrated, but his resolve melts with a devilish smirk. “You know, your mum and I  _ also _ discussed what happened with that ostrich.” 

“I  _ told  _ you I was done talking about that—”

“How did he attack you again, H? He broke through the fence, didn’t he?” Louis laughs when Harry swats at his shoulder. “Picked you up by the shirt, right? And threw you how many feet away?” 

“Stooooop,” Harry whines, but a laugh escapes him. “Okay, maybe I’ve… embellished this story a little over the years.” 

“A  _ little _ ,” Louis throws his head back with another loud laugh. “Haz, the ostrich just stuck its beak through a hole in the fence.” 

“I was  _ seven! _ It was  _ terrifying _ !” 

“I know, baby,” Louis smiles and pats Harry’s thigh condescendingly, “I know.” 

Harry harrumphs a little, scrunching his nose the way he does when he’s trying not to laugh, “I really should have just left you at home, huh?” 

“Yeah, like you could’ve made it three days without me.” 

  
  
At less than an hour into their camping excursion, Harry’s  _ only _ saving grace is that his ass looks incredible in his hiking pants. Louis nearly scoffs aloud at the thought—those pants were  _ not _ made for hiking, but Harry’s confident stride says otherwise. 

It’s embarrassing how shallow his own breathing is. He’s barely keeping up and while he’s apt to blame it on the altitude—or the way Harry always makes him feel a little breathless—it’s more likely that he’s out of shape. What’s worse is that his boyfriend isn’t even going to  _ pretend _ otherwise. At least, it doesn’t seem like it with the way he’s marching forward with resolve and ignoring Louis. 

Louis is not used to being ignored,  _ especially _ by Harry. 

So it’s that, and the way Harry’s jeans are hugging his ass that keep him moving forward. He’s a cursed camper but he is  _ not _ a quitter.  

“Harry,” Louis whines, “Are we there yet?” 

Harry chuckles, soft and amused. If it had been anyone else, Louis would’ve missed it over the sound of the breeze. But he  _ knows _ that sound, and even if it’s at his expense, it’s one of his favorite sounds in the world. Maybe this won’t be all bad, Louis thinks wistfully, taking another embarrassingly large gulp of air. 

Harry slows his pace a moment, allowing Louis to catch up to him. Louis smiles, lips closed tight, when he sees Harry’s hand, hanging limp at his side, just  _ waiting _ for Louis to grasp it. He reaches toward it, and is about to tighten his grip when he feels one foot left behind, pulled by the force of a rock lodged into the ground. He trips, and the force of his fall actually scrapes up his hands when he tries to catch himself on the dirt road. He hisses at the sting in his palms, and groans at the ache in his knees where they hit the ground. 

There’s a moment of complete silence before he hears the sound that started all of this. Harry giggles from above him, and nearly every fond association Louis has with the sound dissipates. He snarls up at him, and to his horror, Harry only laughs harder. 

Louis stands up quickly, brushing himself off, wincing at the extra dirt he’s brushed into his own palm. Harry had tried to help him, but Louis wasn’t about to let him after that display of betrayal. He stomps away and Harry must run after him, he catches up so quickly. 

“Lou, come on,” Harry says, “You have to admit, it was kind of funny!” 

“Your face is kind of funny,” Louis spits back. 

Harry laughs again. It’s still unacceptable. 

Louis harrumphs and tries to pick up his pace, but then he sees a bench out of the corner of his eye and decides that moving forward is bullshit. Louis sits down hard and fast on the bench and Harry chuckles again, this time exasperated as he kneels in front of Louis. 

“Lou, you laugh when I fall all the time.” 

Louis hugs his arms closer to his chest, staring intently at Harry’s forehead instead of his eyes. 

“That’s  _ different, _ ” he mutters.   

“How?” Harry asks, the annoyance sneaking its way into his voice. 

“You’re not  _ cursed, _ you’re just clumsy.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Look. What do I need to do to make you forget about this stupid curse?” 

“You can’t,” he replies haughtily. He hates the sound of his own voice right now. He hasn’t been such a huge pain since that time Harry had to come pick him up when his car was in a ditch. Harry had told him he needed to stay over to avoid the icy roads, but Louis was trying to have some dignity and prove to himself he could spend a night without Harry. 

He should have known better. Clearly his dignity vacated the premises when Harry moved in. 

Harry stands up, brushing the dirt off his knees and takes the seat next to Louis. 

“Why do you wanna go camping so bad anyway?” Louis asks. “Why are you so determined to ruin my life?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Look. If I tell you, will you promise not to laugh at me?” 

“You know I can literally never promise that,” Louis deadpans. 

Harry grins, reaching for Louis’ hand anyway. “I just kind of liked the idea of spending the weekend with you—” 

Louis is about to cut in with something snarky when Harry brings a finger to his lips. He presses on them so Louis knows he means it, as if the severe look in his eye weren’t enough. 

“ _ Only _ you,” Harry clarifies. “And I was just thinking about you… and me… under the stars… in the middle of nowhere without incoming calls and spontaneous drinks with friends. Just you and me. In this really fucking cool tent I bought.” 

It’s absolutely  _ ridiculous _ the way Louis’ heart flutters at Harry’s words. It’s mortifying to him that Harry can still do this to him. Still make him feel like he did on their first date—all breathless and overwhelmed that someone like Harry could meet him and  _ like _ him. It’s especially absurd because he just said ‘fucking cool tent’ and Louis  _ still _ adores him. 

Harry leans in and kisses his cheek, “I’m sorry I laughed at you.” 

“I’m sorry I threw a bitch fit about it,” Louis mutters back. 

Harry barks a laugh, “I mean, you said it, not me.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Alright, let’s get there already so you can show me this fucking cool tent.” 

Harry beams at him, practically hopping from his spot on the bench, and hand in hand, they make the rest of the trek. Louis can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. 

  
Turns out the ‘fucking cool tent’ is pretty retro. Louis was assigned a stake to put in the ground, but he can’t really do that until Harry figures out where this tent ends and where it begins. It’s a giant tarp with a few poles inside to help it stand up. Louis figured this out ages ago, but it’s way too fun watching Harry try to hold the tent up long enough to inspect the poles. 

Harry’s tongue peeks out as he lifts the tent far above his head. Louis takes a peek under the edge of the tarp and sees Harry’s love handles poking over the top of his jeans as he adjusts lifts the tent much further above his head than he needs to. Louis grins as Harry’s eyes light up when he sees the intended spot for the tarp to rest against the pole and he pushes the sharp edge of it into the ground. 

He’s so cute, honestly. 

“What?” Harry asks, grinning. 

“Hm?” Louis replies, before a small yawn breaks through.  

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry smirks. 

“No reason,” Louis smiles. “You’re just cute.” 

Harry beams at him, lowering himself to the ground before he crawls towards him. Unfortunately, the tarp, resting against one pole—a pole Harry hadn’t pushed very deep into the ground to begin with—falls on top of the both of them. Harry grunts when the pole hits his back, the tarp resting between their heads.

“Haz, you okay?” Louis calls out. He can’t see him past the tarp, and he’s not sure Harry can hear him over all the rustling as they struggle to push it off. Louis finds himself laughing at what this might look like outside. 

“I’m right in front of you, Lou,” Harry answers, frustration coloring his tone. “I’m fine.” 

He’s not sure who finds the end of the tarp first, but soon enough both Harry and Louis find themselves free of their fallen tent. Harry sighs a little, seemingly defeated, and Louis pouts back at him. 

He’s only a  _ little _ sarcastic when he asks, “You okay, babe?” 

Harry makes a face at him, “You’re supposed to feel sorry for me.” 

Louis laughs, “Yeah, well. You laughed when I fell, so we’re even.” 

Harry barks a laugh and scoots closer to Louis’ side so he can playfully flick his ear, “We are  _ far _ from even.”  

“Hey!” Louis barks, pushing Harry’s hand away from his face. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, that you laugh at my pain  _ often _ and that means you owe me.” 

Louis grins back devilishly, “I owe you, do I?” 

“Big time.” Harry smirks back.  

Louis is a pain in the ass and he knows it, but somehow Harry always forgets. Louis swings his leg over Harry’s beside him, straddling his lap and smirks before going in for a sweet, sensual kiss. He sucks at Harry’s bottom lip when he pulls away and brings his lips close to Harry’s ear. 

“That’ll do then, right?” he whispers, tantalizingly. 

Harry hums low in his throat, squeezing Louis’ hips, “Not even close.” 

Louis had expected that answer, which is why Louis’ reply comes without any pause or hesitance. He licks the inside of Harry’s ear. 

“Hey!” Harry yells, pulling his head away from Louis and releasing him at the hips. 

Louis laughs maniacally as Harry actually pushes him off his lap. 

“You’re the worst, you know.” 

Louis stands up and extends a hand to help Harry, another laugh escaping his lips, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Sun is setting, anyway,” Harry grumbles. “We should get this tent up so you can  _ really  _ repay me.” 

“You mean to tell me you didn’t enjoy that?” Louis teases. 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Would you just help me? I need this in deeper.” 

He’s talking about the pole, but Louis snorts anyway. 

“You’re the  _ worst,” _ Harry reiterates. 

Louis cackles again, but when a slight chill runs through his body, he decides it’s best not to waste any more time. The sun is setting faster now, and Louis would really like to be inside that tent with Harry before it’s too dark. He might even talk him into sharing a sleeping bag so that Louis doesn’t freeze to death. It is October after all, and though the fall has been unseasonably warm so far, Louis still ends up feeling chilly most nights. 

The moment Louis decides to stop being a pain in the ass is the moment their tent becomes much easier to handle. There’s a few bumps in the road, but thankfully, they find themselves with some semblance of shelter just as it’s getting dark outside. 

Louis shivers a little bit, drifting to Harry’s side, “Do you think we should build a fire?” 

Harry frowns a little, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. He surveys their tent one last time before looking down slightly at Louis to his side, “I think it might be too dark.” 

Louis grimaces and pushes himself just a little further into Harry’s side, a last ditch effort to gain some warmth. 

“Let’s just get in the tent,” Harry suggests, untying the sleeping bags from both of their bags and taking them inside. 

Louis follows Harry’s friendly instruction and steps inside of their home for the weekend. It’s… much darker than he was expecting. It feels a little silly that he  _ hadn’t _ expected it. He can tell he’s not alone in this when Harry opens the flap of their tent and lets it fall shut behind him. 

“Oh,” Harry says. 

“Yeah,” Louis starts, “Did you, um. Bring a lantern by chance?” 

It’s pitch black in their tent, so if Harry is answering nonverbally, there’s no way for Louis to tell. He can  _ sense _ that Harry is cursing himself, though.

“I, erm. I think there’s a flashlight? In one of our bags. Hang on, let me check.” 

Louis can hear Harry settle on the ground, he hears the zip of the bag multiple times as he searches all their pockets. After a few minutes, when the sounds stop, and Louis hears a small huff, he thinks Harry’s come up empty. 

“You weren’t kidding about, you, me, and the stars, were ya?” Louis jokes, his words falling just short of light hearted and irritation just barely coming through. 

“Lou, stop,” Harry whines. 

“I mean, our view could be a  _ little _ clearer,” Louis pushes. 

“Louis,  _ stop _ .” Harry says, much more convincingly.

Louis sighs as he slinks to the ground and reaches into empty space for his sleeping bag. It’s not right in front of him, and maybe it’s because he’s tired, or that he’s here at  _ all _ , but Louis almost sheds a fucking tear when he says, “Haz, I’m cold.” 

“Hang on, Lou,” Harry says, dejected. 

Louis feels terrible. He’d tried to warn Harry about all this, but this isn’t even his curse. This is just the awful stuff that comes with camping.  

He can hear some shuffling across the tent from him, and he reaches out, relieved to find Harry  _ and _ a sleeping bag directly in front of him. 

Harry makes quick work of pulling the sleeping bag out of it’s bag and he shakes it out flat before laying it down. Louis can hear him smoothing it out and he’s cold and miserable, but it makes him smile anyway. 

“Shit,” Harry mutters under his breath. 

“What is it?” Louis asks, wary of the answer.

“Oh, we’re just on the wrong end of the sleeping bag. I have to flip it over.” 

Louis sits and shivers and waits for Harry to summon him. Luckily it’s only about a minute later that he hears another zipper. 

“Come here, Lou. It’s all yours.” 

Louis approaches the sound of Harry’s voice and grabs his hand. Harry grabs hold of it and pulls Louis in his direction. Harry helps him find where he’s opened the sleeping bag and Louis squirms in, relieved that the material inside is still warm. 

The sound of Harry shuffling away is so upsetting, Louis actually whines a little. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re not supposed to be over there,” Louis reasons. “You’re supposed to be in here with me.” 

Harry chuckles softly, “Lou, there’s no room.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” Louis asks, mock offended. 

“No,” Harry sighs, “I’m calling the sleeping bag small.” 

“But I’m cold,” Louis argues. 

“So zip it up,” Harry says. 

“But…” Louis pouts. “I can’t repay you if you’re all the way over there.” 

“I don’t want you to lick my ear, Louis.” 

Louis giggles because he can’t help it. “That’s not what I mean.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“What do you  _ think, _ you dork? Get over here.” 

Harry shuffles again in the dark, this time in Louis’ direction, and Louis feels warm—actual warmth, and also this fuzzy relief when Harry squeezes in next to him. 

“Zip it shut,” Louis requests. 

“I don’t know if we’ll fit, Lou.” 

Louis ignores him, pushing an arm over Harry’s side and reaching for the zipper. He has to lift his torso, leaning heavily on Harry in order to reach it and he grunts a little when he finally finds it and pulls it up. He squirms so he can pull his arm back and gives a cocky grin as he settles in beside Harry. 

“Now what?” Harry asks in the dark. 

Louis snorts because, well, he has a point. He can literally feel Harry’s breathing against his face, they’re pressed so close, but Louis still can’t even see him. 

Harry is irritated. Probably because the boy loves a good cuddle, but not if he can’t stretch out. Louis has to act fast, or not only will Harry be mad at him, but he’ll be  _ cold _ . 

Louis leans in for a kiss, something open and soft, but his parted lips meet the tip of Harry’s chin. He pulls back quickly and pushes lightly at Harry’s shoulder when he laughs. 

“Harry, just kiss me.” 

“Oh, is that what that was?” 

“Shut up,” Louis giggles. “I’m  _ trying _ .” 

“Hang on,” Harry chuckles back, “Where are your lips?” 

“ _ Exactly, _ ” Louis replies, unhelpfully. 

“It’s too fucking dark for this,” Harry mutters, using his fingers to trace Louis’ face. He starts at Louis’ cheekbones and Louis tries to turn his face to help him find his lips faster, but it only confuses him. So, Louis takes matters into his own hands—literally and figuratively—reaching for Harry’s face and placing one hand on his cheek, bracing himself up on his free arm. Once he knows he’s got Harry’s face cupped in his palm, the rest is muscle memory, and he pulls Harry into a gentle, loving kiss. 

“Found you,” he whispers. 

Harry hums as he brings their lips back together. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s sweet—romantic, even—until Louis’ arm starts to cramp. Louis doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not willing to endure this pain for a little kissing. Not when he could be doing other,  _ better _ things. He readjusts, and Harry follows his movement so he’s almost on his back, leaning against the sleeping bag. 

Louis smirks as he  pushes lightly against Harry’s shoulder. Harry follows the movement, his back flat on the ground as Louis hitches his leg up, and hooks it around Harry’s waist, half of his body draped directly over Harry’s now.

Louis licks at the seam of Harry’s mouth, and grinds his hips down teasingly.

“ _ Ohhh _ ,” Harry moans, parting his lips just enough for Louis to slip his tongue in swiftly, and curl it softly against the roof of his mouth. He can feel Harry’s hand drifting downwards, cupping the swell of his arse and pulling him closer roughly.

_ Now we’re getting somewhere, _ Louis thinks, grinning wickedly to himself. He slides a hand between them slowly, running his knuckles against Harry’s steadily growing erection, loving the way his boy shivers against him.

He pulls his mouth away from Harry’s just slightly, trying not to giggle at the way Harry desperately tries to chase him. He drags his nose across Harry’s cheek softly, and nips at his earlobe.

“You know,” Louis croons, nuzzling the soft skin behind Harry’s ear, and sucking at it lightly. “This reminds me of the way we used to fuck on that tiny,  _ tiny _ bed in your dorm room.” He giggles a little as the memory comes back to him, and he feels Harry huff a laugh warmly in his ear.

“Was hardly fucking, babe,” he corrects teasingly, twirling a finger in Louis’ hair. “We could barely fit. But we got really, really good at sixty-nining.”

Louis leans down then, nipping once more at Harry’s earlobe before he dips his hand inside his shorts.

“Exactly.” He murmurs filthily, tugging at Harry’s cock, and pulling a broken moan from his lips. Louis plants one, last teasing kiss on Harry’s cheek, before he unzips the sleeping bag a little. 

Harry shudders at the cold he’s let in and whines, “Wait, why—”

Louis climbs up Harry’s front just a moment, in lieu of an answer. He braves the cold momentarily, and as soon as he’s out he starts shimmying back into the sleeping bag, head first. His hand finds Harry’s dick seconds later and resumes stroking. He pauses only a moment more to pull Harry’s pants down and out of his way. 

“L-Lou?” Harry groans, his hand feeling around the sleeping bag, touching various parts of him frantically, attempting to pull Louis’ body back to him. 

“W-what are you— _ Oh my God! _ ” He whines, just as Louis gives the tip of his dick a soft kiss. 

His head is completely engulfed by the thin fabric of the sleeping bag, and he thanks his lucky stars that he’s not claustrophobic.

Taking a deep breath, he licks lightly at the side of Harry’s cock, ducking away quickly before Harry bucks upward.

“Stay still, H,” he hisses, throwing his leg over Harry’s chest, so that they’re in full sixty-nine position now.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry apologizes, and Louis rolls his eyes because he’s in love with an idiot, truly. He shakes the thought away, focusing on the task at hand.

_ Pitch black blowjob, _ he reminds himself.  _ I can do this. _

He takes a deep breath, and wraps his lips around the tip of Harry’s cock just as he feels Harry’s fingers skimming the skin above the waistband of his shorts.

“Babe,” Harry gasps. “Need this off, okay? Gonna take this off.” He says, not waiting for a signal before he’s peeling the fabric off of Louis’ arse. Louis smiles—he loves the way Harry babbles during sex.

He’s startled out of his fondness as he feels a cold wind kiss his skin suddenly, and he tries to will down a shiver, focusing on Harry’s throbbing cock instead of the way his fringe is matted to his forehead from the suffocating fabric of the sleeping bag.

He starts to take Harry down slowly, closing his eyes and moaning against the delicious weight on his tongue, and he nearly squeaks when he feels Harry press a wet kiss first to his right, and then to his left arse cheek.

It’s silly, because he  _ knows  _ that even if there was a lantern to light their tent, he couldn’t see Harry from under the heavy sleeping bag, but there’s something incredibly sexy about the fact that the only way he can gauge Harry’s reaction is in his breathing, in the way he can  _ feel _ Harry trying to hold very still, and how his own blowjob suffers from how thoroughly  _ distracted  _ Harry is. 

After one last playful suck at Harry’s head, he pulls off for a breath, stroking steadily with his hand to keep some sort of friction. A fleeting thought crosses Louis’ mind then, that maybe camping isn’t so bad. Maybe his curse is reversed, and all it really took is Harry’s plush lips pressing soft, teasing kisses to his lower abdomen. Being with him this way has always been some kind of magic.  

Louis’ just about to pull Harry into his mouth—ready and willing to suck him dry when a loud  _ thump  _ pulls them from their reverie. 

Louis would have preferred a gentle awakening, with fluttering eyelashes and a post-orgasm haze—instead he got a face full of Harry’s cock. Louis had lifted his head quickly, the noise jolting him, but Harry’s entire body jerked frantically, pushing his hips straight into Louis’ face. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Louis cries, pushing Harry’s dick aside, and shuffling, attempting to get off of Harry and out of this sweltering sleeping bag. 

“What the fuck was that?” Harry exclaims, also shuffling and pushing Louis’ legs off, unintentionally keeping Louis trapped where he is. 

Louis kicks his legs and Harry swears again, “Your bloody cock almost poked my eye out, will you let me the fuck out of here please?” 

So much for romance. 

“Shit, Lou, sorry,” Harry mutters. He unzips the sleeping bag, and Louis sits up. The cold air feels good on his face for all of three seconds before he’s shivering again. 

Fresh complaints sit on the tip of his tongue when he hears a variety of thumps, all coming from the side of the tent. Louis scoots frantically away from the sound, and shoves Harry’s shoulder along the way, romance be fucking damned. “Harry, what is that?” 

“Fuck if I know!” Harry answers, gesturing wildly. 

“Well go find out!” 

“Fuck no!” 

The thumps have turned light and fluttery, like something is beating against the side of the tent repeatedly. 

“Fine, I’ll go look.” Louis rolls his eyes. He’s almost positive it’s an animal of some kind, the question is how rabid is it? Goddamn it if Louis walks away from this fucking camping trip without rabies it’ll be a miracle. 

“Wait!” Harry whispers harshly. Louis slumps in relief. There’s no way Harry will let him go out there alone. 

“Put on your pants first.” 

Harry tosses Louis’ pants at him and Louis scowls in return. He steps into his pants, and shivers against the cold, dreading how much worse it will be outside the tent. 

He pushes the tarp aside and shudders at the brisk gust of wind that forces its way in. He steps outside quickly and takes a deep breath. 

_ Just turn around and take a look, _ he coaches himself.  _ Rip the bandage off, turn around and run the fuck away and leave your dickhead boyfriend behind to be eaten.  _

He wishes he’d put on more than just his pants. 

Louis takes a few steps forward and quickly turns around. What he finds is a bat, flapping away at the side of the tent. What he remembers almost instantly is that he’s fucking _ terrified _ of bats _.  _ Louis actually shrieks at the sight and bolts back under the tent, slamming himself into Harry, still sat on the ground, waiting patiently. 

He wraps his arms around Harry’s middle and burrows his head into his chest, breathing heavily, because there’s a fucking  _ bat  _ out there. 

“Lou, oh my god, what?” Harry asks in a hushed, urgent tone. “What is it?” 

Louis shakes his head quickly, rubbing his head against Harry’s chest. 

“What’s out there?” Harry prompts again. 

“It’s a fucking bat,” Louis mutters, an embarrassing noise of disgust forces its way out of him. “You made me go find a fucking  _ bat _ , and I’ll  _ never _ forgive you for this.” 

He fucking means it too, though his words would be slightly more effective if he could loosen his grip on Harry’s midsection. 

“A bat?” 

“Yes. A bat.” Louis mutters. “It’s stuck.” 

“Oh god,” Harry sighs. “Okay, well. I mean. It’s not a bear, right? We just have to get the bat unstuck so it can fly away.” 

“You mean  _ you _ have to get it unstuck, asshole,” Louis spits back. 

Harry huffs, “Okay, fine, but you have to let me go first.” 

Eventually, Louis does. He watches as Harry approaches the side of the tent. He taps it lightly, but pulls his hand away quickly, like the side of the tent has burned him. 

“Where is it?” 

“Stuck to the bottom I think? Or on the ground? I don’t know,” Louis replies helplessly. 

“If I stick my hand under the tarp will I touch it?” 

“I don’t know, Harry, it depends on if you happen to pick wherever the fuck he is!” 

“Is he somewhere near the center?” Harry whines. 

“I don’t fucking  _ know _ , Harry, just do it!” 

Louis watches with bated breath, his eyes have adjusted to the darkness only slightly, so he can make out Harry’s shape as he reaches for the bottom of the tent. He watches as Harry slowly lifts at it, and shakes a little. The light thumping stops, and in it’s place the bat screeches, and Harry screeches right back. He drops the tent and falls backwards away from it, scrambling back to Louis’ side. 

“Is it gone?” Harry asks. 

Louis shudders pulling Harry closer still.

“I don’t know,” he whines. 

The thumping has stopped. All is quiet besides the sound of the breeze outside. It’s ominous almost, and Louis can’t help but glance at the tent’s entrance every so often. He’s terrified that this time the bat will fly right inside and take its revenge. 

Harry reaches for the sleeping bag and unzips it enough to use it as a blanket, securing both of them underneath it. Harry wraps an arm around him and Louis sinks into it. 

“Lou?” Harry says after a while. 

“Hm?” 

“Let’s go home.”

“Oh, thank  _ god _ .” 

 

Later that night,  Louis is sitting in their bedroom watching Harry take off his socks.    
  
Louis’ mouth is curled up in a smile, another ‘I told you so’ on the tip of his tongue when he notices it. Harry is still tense—Louis can tell just by the way the muscles on his back pull and flex, and suddenly, guilt begins to bubble at the bottom of his stomach.   
  
He frowns. He’d given Harry an earful the whole ride home, going on and on about how this wouldn’t have happened if his boyfriend had just  _ listened  _ to Louis in the first place. And Harry—wonderful, sweet Harry—had simply intertwined their fingers and taken the full beating with a benevolent smile on his face. He had even unloaded the car and unpacked the bags without so much as a hint that he needed Louis’ help, letting his boyfriend laze about the room as he scurried from corner to corner arranging all their stuff.

Harry was the absolute best, and Louis can’t help but feel like he ruined the weekend for both of them with his sour attitude.

He needs to make it up to him, Louis decides. Right now.

Louis props himself up on his knees then, and crawls to Harry slowly. He presses his chest to Harry’s back, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s slumped shoulders. He feels Harry tense further then.   
  
“Lou,” he sighs, a tired warning.   
  
“Shh, baby,” Louis answers, dragging his nose down Harry’s sweaty neck and nuzzling into his skin. At the back of his mind Louis knows that sweaty boys shouldn’t smell as good as Harry does right now, but that was the thing about his boyfriend—he was magic. 

“I’m sorry, love.” He murmurs into the nape of his neck, rubbing his hands up and down Harry’s biceps soothingly. “I was a brat, I know.”   
  
Harry sighs again, but Louis can hear a small smile in his voice this time.

“You were,” he agrees easily. “You always are.”

“Oi!” Louis warns, nipping at his earlobe in retaliation, making them both giggle. “I’m trying to make it up to you,” he insists indignantly. “No need to be an arse.”

Harry turns slightly towards him then, his cheek indented with that darling little dimple, and Louis feels his insides go gooey instantly.   
  
“How are you going to make it up to me, hmm?” He asks, and Louis smirks mischievously before he drags his nose lightly up to Harry’s ear, relishing in the sweet shiver Harry can’t seem to repress. In one, swift movement, Louis slides himself onto Harry’s lap, straddling him.

“Well,” he starts easily, pretending to think about it. “I know you wanted some time—just you and me…” he quotes from earlier. He pins Harry with a suggestive stare as he drags his forefinger down his chest lightly. “No spontaneous drinks with friends,” he continues, toying with the waistband of Harry’s shorts. “ Or…” he squeezes Harry’s left arse cheek hard, causing him to gasp, and then dips his hand in his back pocket to pull out his phone. “...incoming calls,” he says, waggling his eyebrows as he makes a show of shutting off Harry’s cell and tossing it carelessly behind him.

“Ohh, baby,” Harry moans exaggeratedly, biting his lip and throwing his head back in fake ecstasy. “Talk dirty to me!”

They both burst out laughing then, Louis cackling as he swats at Harry playfully.   
  
“You’re so annoying!” He whines good-naturedly, placing both his palms on either side of Harry’s neck and meeting his happy green eyes. Harry is smiling at him then, fond and loving, and Louis can’t help it. “I really love you.” He says suddenly.   


Harry’s grin only widens, pulling Louis to him just this side of too rough. The sudden movement slides their cocks against each other in just the right way, and Louis gasps, his open mouth falling onto Harry’s easily. 

As they kiss lightly, he swivels his hips again to repeat the delicious friction, and it pulls a deep moan from Harry’s mouth. They begin to rock back and forth—at first slowly and steadily, and then rougher, faster,  _ harder. _

“Oh my—Ohhh!” Louis moans, as he feels Harry’s fingers trace the line of his crack. Harry keeps rocking them together, the tip of his middle finger tracing light, agonizing circles around his hole over and over again.    
  
And that’s the thing about Harry, Louis realizes then. He doesn’t even have to be naked to get Louis going.   
  
Their cocks continue to slide against one another, Louis able to feel the wetness between the thin fabric of their shorts, and there’s something about getting off like this—like they’re teenagers who can’t even wait until their pants are off—that has the fire of pleasure building, building, building at the bottom of Louis’ stomach. 

Then he feels it. Harry’s middle finger breaching his hole dry. It’s a little painful, but just the right kind, and it has Louis hissing “Y-yesss…” into Harry’s open mouth as his eyes roll back into his head with the force of his orgasm.

He feels his toes curl, and he quickly shoves his hands between their bodies, pulling Harry’s cock out of his shorts. He gathers the precome that’s still blurting steadily out of his slit and smears it all over his shaft, tugging at it as he rides out the waves of pleasure.   


It only takes two more pulls before Harry is yelling into the dark room, white hot come shooting out onto Louis’ shirt as he wraps his arms sturdily around Louis’ back.

They stay like that for a little bit, Louis curled against Harry’s strong chest as they catch their breath, until Harry finally falls backward on the mattress, taking Louis with him.   


Louis wiggles out of his embrace, falling into the bed beside him, his mind still foggy from his orgasm. He snuggles into Harry’s side and smiles to himself as his boyfriend wraps an arm around him again. It takes a few beats, but Louis finally breaks the silence.

“See how much better this was at home?” He teases, burying his smirk into Harry’s chest. “I told you camping was a terrible idea.” 

“Mm,” Harry hums back, the words that follow are slow and heavy, “You should at least  _ try _ to be more optimistic, Lou. Bats are gross, but it could’ve been worse.” 

Louis smirks,  “You’re right. It could’ve been an ostrich.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silly little story. :)  
> You can read other fics in this collection [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/31daysofsmut_cocktoberfest)


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